Wandering Child
by KlainesSecretChild
Summary: Kurt, Sam, Santana and Mike live in a world where children are sent to work daily at the age of just three. In the harsh, devastating world, can they find their destiny in each other?


Wandering Child

**Kurt, Sam, Santana and Mike live in a world where children are sent to work daily at the age of just three. In the harsh, devastating world, can they find their destiny in each other? **

**Just a side note before I begin. I was reading _Birth of a Killer _by _Darren Shan_ when the inspiration hit me. If you've read it, it's amazing isn't it? If not, then don't panic. It is not true to the book or its sequels which I have yet to peruse. It is just the setting of which I am taking the inspiration. **

_**Not done this in ages: Disclaimer: Every belongs to their respective authors and owners. Darren Shan and RIB. I don't own anything. **_

**The names of the towns are from my imagination/mind. If I have unintentionally reaped them from other works that you know of, please inform me immediately, so I can rethink. I am skipping their factory work because I have no idea how to write it. **

**This will be a Romance fic. Eventually. For now it's Hurt/Comfort. But it will be Santana/Mike and Kurt/Sam**

**Part One- Kurt **

**Chapter 1- Dawn**

* * *

"Santana, get up!" I hiss angrily at my close friend Santana. Santana, Sam and Mike and I live at the orphanage. Our parents all perished in a tragic fire that devoured the village adjacent to where the orphanage resides. The surviving residents of the village took the time to construct an almost replica of the ancient village right next to the ruins of the destroyed town, just with a different name. We used to call the burned town Torkay when it was still functioning. Now, it's just called The Ruins. We now live in Hakar. The master and mistress of the orphanage are terrible people. Mr and Mrs Normans. We call them The Awfuls. Not very inventive I know, but when you're five years old, what can you do? I am now twelve years old, the same age as Sam. Mike and Santana are both thirteen. Our parents knew each other, and were friends, so it's natural that we know each other and are friends with each other too.

When I think about it, I prefer living in Torkay. Not only because I had my parents, but also because it was much freer. You could stray from your home and nobody would bat an eyelash. But in Hakar, if you even leave without permission or so nobody knows where you are, you're in trouble.

Let me tell you about the punishments here. If you misbehave once, they will just verbally warn you, which I suppose is fair. Another violation, you get whipped. If you violate the strict rules after that, you get tied to a post, stripped naked and whipped. If you still don't receive the message they attempt to send, you get thrown in the torture chamber. I know terrible, right? There was once a kid called Casper who violated after being tortured thinking they'd just ignore him. They killed him. I liked him too, before he began to be difficult.

"Santana! Now!" I whisper again. She understands me this time and jolts awake, as if prompted by an electric shock. Sam is still dozing, and I let him be. Partly because he looks so cute and peaceful when he's slumbering. Let me tell you something you need to know about me. I'm gay. Something which is absolutely forbidden in Hakar. It wasn't too bad in Torkay, but now…you can't even mention homosexuality for fear of being whipped. It's sort of a double punishment. You skip the verbal warning and they just whip you. Right there, wherever you are. I have to be extra careful not to reveal myself.

Sam's gay too. He's more inconspicuous than I am, since he's more masculine, and doesn't have to worry much about being caught out. One kid had to leave Hakar because someone found out he was gay. They simply told him to leave or they'd kill his family. It's cruel. It's not a decision one simply makes on the spot. It's a life-altering choice. The thing is, they believe that if everyone reproduced biologically, there's more people in the village, so that's more income. I silently crack that theory, claiming that there won't be enough work available for newcomers and infants. You heard me right; infants.

You are eligible to begin working at the factories the day you turn three years old. You are not given an option. It's either you work every day, or you die of starvation. Each being in the village earns his or her own income. And that income is theirs personally. Not to be shared with anybody else. They're very watchful, the Council. The Council dictates what's what around here. You are not permitted to share money, food or water with somebody else, even if they are starving.

They think that we need to be punished for ruining Torkay. They have this wacky theory that we caused the catastrophe that killed many people in the village. They have no reason to believe otherwise. Still to this day, the cause of the untimely accident is enigmatic to everyone.

It's torture if someone who you know or love has to starve. You can't even slip them a roll of bread or some milk. You have to be very carefully about where your hands go during mealtimes. The Awfuls think we share food. We don't. We're not that stupid. Sam keeps silently trying to pass his food on to Mike, to no avail. Mike refuses point blank.

I watch the birds fly past the open window outside, considering it a peace technique of mine. Santana likes to think. Sam sings. Beautifully, I might add. Mike reads.

We are allowed one day of a week, of our choosing. The Council seems to think that they're being nice by allowing us one day off. The four of our all pick the same day, since there are no rules against us having the same day off. Usually, depending on the weather, we pick Mondays. There's no certain logic behind it, but none of us seem to like working on Mondays. If it's really warm, we'll work on Mondays and pick a hotter day to take off. The factory where we all work is sweltering. So, if it's cold, it decreases our body temperature slightly. We make thread for the grown women to make our garments out of. We have to buy the clothes ourselves and they are mighty expensive. I could barely afford food after I purchased a pair of toasty gloves once.

Santana approaches me, and rests her head in my lap. Judging by the light in the sky, we have approximately twenty five minutes give or take a few until the Awfuls bang their pans in the room, effectively waking us up. Mike and Sam are still soundly asleep, however. I find that it's best to already be alert for when they arrive in the room. It reduces the shock of being awoken due to a raucous noise.

After stroking Santana's hair for a good five minutes, I remove her head and stand, approached to where the boys sleep. We all sleep on the floor, just on different parts of the room. The Awfuls have been trying to get Santana and I to reproduce, but to no avail. I'm twelve! She's thirteen! We would have great looking children, but that's not the issue. I'm gay and twelve, for heavens sake!

I stare at Sam longingly before stroking his face gently, so he didn't wake, but so I could just have one moment of bliss.

No such luck.

His eyes delicately fluttered open and he came around. Sam is beautiful. He has those green eyes that I could just melt into, and find myself gazing into them for all eternity. He has lustrous blonde hair, which has been made lighter by the sun's work. His body is gorgeous. He has fantastic chest muscles and his arms are lovely. He is the dream boy for me. He is beautiful. Did I mention that he's beautiful?

I flush girlishly and crawl silently over to Mike. Mike is gorgeous too. His smooth face is only made better by his warm brown eyes. His body is like Sam's but more toned and a little less muscled. His arms are slightly smaller than Sam's, but he's still good looking anyway.

Santana is beautiful, too. Her long, dark hair matches her tanned complexion. Her body is nice and she has eyelashes that could make anybody cave in when she fluttered them cutely.

I, on the other hand, am nothing special. I have pale white skin, and my nose is strange and out of place. Santana's says I'm handsome, but I don't believe her.

Mike's eyes open at my touch, and he sits bolt upright, expecting the volley of clanging to come.

"It's alright, Mike. It's not for another twenty minutes anyway. You're okay. For now, at least." I reassure the boy. He had trouble sleeping when we first moved into the orphanage. He had a reoccurring nightmare that he was falling into acid, and the noise of the pans was all he could hear. He was mortified when he woke. I sympathised. My nightmare was that I was burning, and that everybody had water and that nobody would douse the flames licking my body. I used to wake every morning, sweating, the shrieking of the pans hurting my ears. Not fun.

"Kurt, I'm worried. About you and Sam." Mike whispers to me.

"We'll be fine. Well, at least Sam will. I'm not so lucky. But I've accepted that. I may get in trouble. At least you guys are safe. I'd give you all my food and clothing if it was permitted. I love you guys." I whisper back, sensing the hushed tone he wants the conversation to be held in.

"Especially Sam, right?" He utters back. Sam is talking to Santana, so he doesn't hear anything. I give a short nod.

"For a while now." I clarify. "And you love Santana, don't you?"  
"More than I can stand. I don't think she reciprocates." Mike says.

"I can't be sure. I'll find out." I say.

"Be discreet."

"Please. Discreet is my middle name."  
"Your middle name is Elizabeth."  
"My other middle name." I smile at Mike and he laughs, rubbing yellow crust from his eyes.

I crawl back to Santana and lie with her peacefully until it comes.

The pans.

The Awfuls.

It signals the time for when we have to leave for the factory. We work in what we sleep in because it's cheaper for us. Nobody really cares. A lot of people don't wash, but because we live with the Normans, we get privileges that others do not. The pans are silenced by our chirpiness and prepare for the long day ahead.

"Let's get going." Sam suggests. We all nod. Santana and Mike exit the room. I'm about to follow suit when Sam taps my back.  
"Hey, we'll get through this." He says.  
"What exactly is this?" I inquire curiously.

"You know. Our…problem. We'll get through it together." He replies. He leaves after the others and I tail him. My heart is pounding heavily against my chest like a fast drumbeat. I flinch with happiness at the possibility that he may like me back.

Could he maybe feel the same? I have no idea, but only time will tell.

We return back to the orphanage at seven o'clock. After being woken at five thirty, it's an unusually long, stressful day. Mike collapses dramatically onto the floor. He passes out not long afterwards. I groan because I have to wake him up to eat some of the food he bought at the market. In my food bag is some bread, milk and apples. That's all I could afford. Sam has bread and some potatoes. Santana bought some carrots and bread. Mike has bread, potatoes and milk. Mike saves his money wisely and doesn't splurge like we do. Nonetheless, we enjoy our meals, after waking the exhausted Mike. Because he and Sam are strong, they do the most manual labour. Santana and I have the recent developments in machinery to guide us. The boys just use brute strength. Mike hates it, but Sam finds it therapeutic, almost. Mike is allowed to sleep and does so. Sam, Santana and I sit in a tight circle, talking.

We find talking helps with everything. We already know almost everything about each other, but there are some things that should be left unsaid. Like what Santana comes out with sometimes. Today is no exception.

"I want to leave." She mutters to Sam and I. We frown, not fully comprehending her vague comment.

"Leave Hakar? Or the orphanage?" Sam asks.

"Hakar." She answers, gulping, watching for the Awfuls. Sam looks aghast. I just stay neutral. I get what she means. To be free of the controlling, selfish guidelines of the Council. But that's impossible.

By law, we are not permitted to leave Hakar until we reach the age of twenty. That's seven or eight years for us. None of us can last that long. We've just never really thought about it.

"Santana, you know we can't." Sam argues kindly.  
"But we can! If we…"

"Absolutely _not_, Santana!" I interject a little more harshly than I intended to.  
"Kurt, we can do this! I know we can!"

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because…I have a plan." She smirks.

"A good plan?"  
"As good as any."

I ponder this for a long moment. To embark upon Santana's plan would be to risk all of our lives. Mine would be at stake. Sam's, Santana's and Mike's. It's too risky. However, if it succeeds, we'd finally be free of Hakar. Forever. I quickly weigh up the pros and cons of Santana's ludicrous statement. I sigh.

"I'm sorry, Santana, but I can't let you do this. I don't want to lose you."  
"You won't, Kurt. I promise. We'd be in it together. I just know we can escape." She retorts. She's crying now, and Santana never cries. Ever. I can see how long she's been brooding over this, and how much she wants it. How can I be so heartless as to deny Santana of something she so desperately wants? It will probably turn out to be the absolute worst decision of the entire existence, but I'm willing to risk it. For the sake of the practical family I have in the room with me.

"Okay, Santana. I'm in." I whisper, trying to hold myself together.

"Excellent." She hissed.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts? I'd love to hear from you all. I've been not getting any reviews lately and I wondered if you guys had stopped reading my stories. Let me know what's up with them or the problems or whatever. I hope there'll be more updates soon. *lessthanthree* I also want to hear from anybody watching the new series of Pretty Little Liars. PM me and we'll discuss. I need someone to talk about it with! ThankYou. xxx**


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